Love-Hate
by LiKaTaSa
Summary: Soul has a love-hate relationship with life ...


He never used to hate things. He just disliked them. But recently, since madness had been on the loose and kishins were getting more adept at fighting, things were changing.

He now hated the color white.

The stiff hospital sheets that hugged her body. The sickly pale of her skin from blood loss. The bags of gauze they restocked on every month. The medication bottles he had to go restock for her whenever she was too injured to walk to the academy. The walls of the waiting room whenever the kishins cut too deep. The keys of the piano he had to play to assist her in battle. The curtains that hid the sun from them, because her eyes were too sensitive from lack of sleep.

He now hated the color red.

The blood that seeped out of her wounds and stained the bandages covering her body. The rims of her eyes when the pain was too much. The skin of the demon in his mind, persuading him to let them be corrupted by madness. The hair of the Death Scythe that constantly reminded him it was all his fault. The flowers he kept finding on his porch from their friends, as though they would make things better. The torn skirts they constantly had to replace.

He hated black.

The blood flowing through his veins, poisoning his soul. The room his madness created within his mind. The shadows at night that made it harder to see their enemies. The suit he was worried he would have to wear to her funeral one day. Her pupils that were often dilated from the pain medication they had to give her. The hands of the clock that wouldn't. Stop. Ticking. The monitors that wouldn't. Stop. Beeping.

He hated the bruises that dotted her body.

He hated the wheelchairs he had to roll her out of the hospital in.

He hated the bills that caused her worry.

He hated just about everything.

"Mm... Soul?"

Everything but her.

He tightened his grip on her hand and raised his head from the bed, sitting up in the chair he'd been sitting in for hours. "Maka."

"Hey... Are you okay?" she asked, shifting slightly then gasping in pain.

"Don't move so much, you'll hurt yourself even more." He stood up and adjusted her pillows. "And what do you mean?"

She groaned as she lay back down and he brushed the bangs from her face, hoping to comfort her. "I can't really remember how the battle ended... Did you get hurt?"

He frowned. Why was she always worried about him when she was the one in the hospital bed? "I'm fine. I'm not the one in the hospital gown, you know."

She sighed in relief and he could see her shoulders fall from their tense stance. Why was she always worried about him? "That's good, then."

"Aren't you worried about yourself?" Soul asked. "You broke a few ribs, Maka. How can you be worried about me while you're suffering like this?"

"Stop being dramatic Soul, I'm not, _hah_, suffering," she winced in the middle of her sentence, proving her words false.

"Yeah right, " he snorted. "You always do this."

"Do what?" she asked quietly.

"Just stop it. It's annoying. Why don't you think of yourself? It's not selfish to focus on your own well-being before taking care of everyone else. In fact, it's selfish to leave me to be the only one freaking out about you. It's not cool at all," he muttered.

"Sorry. I guess my priorities are just different from yours."

"Stop saying sorry," he growled. Her eyes averted themselves and he saw her biting her lip to keep herself from apologizing again. He cursed himself for that. "You need pills? I could go get Stein-"

"No, it's fine." She gripped his hand as he started off, stilling him. "Stay."

He clenched his jaw and considered his options. Go for her physical comfort or stay for her emotional comfort.

He sighed, "Fine."

She smiled at him and he felt his lips twitch at the glimmer in her eyes. "Soul... I love you."

Soul eyes widened for a fraction of a second before he grinned. "You know I love you, Maka."

Maka grinned and chuckled. "Yeah. I just wanted to see you smile."

He used to mistake a strong like for love. But recently, the meaning was becoming clear to him.

For example, he loved Maka's eyes.

Their deep green that matched no other's. The way they hardened with determination when she was studying or fighting. The way they softened whenever they were alone, or whenever she got a new postcard from her mom. They were the windows to her soul, the one she wasn't afraid of showing to anyone, no matter its size.

He loved her temper.

It proved that she didn't really care what anyone thought of her. And it stated that she would always fight for what she believed. It made her performance in battle extraordinary, and most of her enemies quiver in fear of her anger. It kept the other boys away.

He loved her hands.

They were soft, but she packed a good punch. She kept them gloved, only to make sure she didn't drop him in a fight. They were almost always holding a book of some kind when they weren't on a mission. Always a bookworm, he loved that too, even when her books usually ended up in his skull.

He loved her intelligence, which she favored over beauty.

He loved her kindness, that was shown to everyone who deserved it.

Her concern, that was often shown in the form of an insult and given to anyone who would accept it.

Yeah. He had a real love-hate relationship with the world. He often thought of what it'd be like to leave it, but decided quickly that he'd stay as long as he had her to live for. For who else would protect her? Who else would watch after her?

Yeah. He loved her enough to stay in this cruel, unforgiving world that she for some reason liked to live in.

He loved and hated the control she unwittingly had over him.


End file.
